


Cemetery Drive

by fvckmefrankie



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arguing, Cemetery, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Death, Swearing, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvckmefrankie/pseuds/fvckmefrankie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Uhm. I don’t mean to intrude or anything, but you seem pretty, uh, like, perturbed at the moment, y’see, and I was wondering if you’d like some, like, company, or something?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cemetery Drive

**Author's Note:**

> shut up I already know the title is overused

 

 

Gerard’s soft whimpers were the only things heard in the abandoned cemetery, as he sat by his grandmother’s grave. He was crying only lightly. She had died over two years ago, and he still visited her every month. It used to be every single day, before his mother had told him to just _‘let it go already’_. But really, it wasn’t that easy. He missed her. She taught him basically everything he knew. She was his lifeline, really, and he always came to the town graveyard to pay his respects, and just enjoy being with her in some way.

 

He was sitting on the grass, playing with the soft, viridescent strands, plucking them out of the ground at times. He wiped at his cheeks, blabbering on about random things and even _sobbing_ as he vocalized, when he unexpectedly heard a stick break. His head immediately whipped around at the sudden noise, and he laid eyes on a short boy, who couldn’t have been over eighteen or nineteen years old. Gerard just stared hard at him, blinking rapidly, as he tried to look more presentable, and preferably _not_ like he was just crying his eyes out.

 

The boy looked frozen as he and Gerard had some sort of intense staring contest. Gerard wiped his eyes after a few more seconds, and the boy thought that was a good time to speak.

 

“Uhm. I don’t mean to intrude or anything, but you seem pretty, uh, like, _perturbed_ at the moment, y’see, and I was wondering if you’d like some, like, company, or something?”

 

Gerard stared even harder at the boy, feeling bemused, and a bit flattered. He found himself nodding, and the boy offered a sad smile, before sitting down next to Gerard. “Frank,”

 

“Huh?” Gerard blinked. “Frank. _I’m_ Frank, I mean,” the boy said, waving his hand a bit like he wasn’t clear enough the first time he introduced himself. His voice was quiet and respectful. Gerard liked him, and the way he acted in such a mourning place.

 

“Gerard,” Gerard spoke, voice cracking, as he kept pulling grass from the damp ground. He felt Frank shift next to him, their knees touching, and he didn’t think Frank noticed. But Gerard did, quite a lot, at that.

 

Frank bit his lip, looking at the side of Gerard’s face. “I lost my dad, when I was young,” he whispered gently, and Gerard held his breath. He wasn’t the only one who visited. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t just _stop._ “Well, I didn’t losehim like _that_.. It’s a long story,” Frank waved his hand again, as if brushing the whole idea off completely.

 

Gerard allowed himself to meet Frank’s eyes, all empathetic and shattered. “I’m sorry,” he said slowly, meaning the two words.

 

Frank smiled, shaking his head. He pointed to the ground. “Who’s this?” he asked. 

 

Gerard gasped quietly at the question, not exactly expecting it. “My grandma,” he said after a few seconds, almost forgetting to answer Frank’s inquiry. His voice sounded so weak and fragile in his own ears, and Gerard cringed a little at the sound of his brittle voice. It was like he could break so easily, if you used your words correctly.

 

Frank nodded. “I see you here a lot,” he stated, and Gerard heard him make a small sound after that, like he regretted saying so. Gerard nodded back at him, feeling embarrassed, but he had to ask, “Why are you talking to me?”

 

Frank licked over his lips, feeling them go dry. “It looked like you could use someone to talk to. You’re always, uhm, crying, and I don’t want you to,”

 

Gerard locked his eyes with Frank’s, and he started to cry again. Fuck him for being so sensitive. Frank shook his head. “No, this is kind of a good thing, please, don’t cry,” he scooted closer, wrapping a secure arm around Gerard’s side.

 

Gerard found that his only option was to let Frank hold him as he began to sob and bawl once more. “I’m so sorry, I just—” he gasped for air, his lungs heaving. “Jesus Christ, I never thought anyone actually _cared,_ fuck, they all tell me to get over her, but I can’t just _do that,_ y’know? I _can’t,_ ”

 

Frank squeezed Gerard tighter, and a tear fell down his own cheek. “I know, I know,” he consoled. “I get it. My mom always tells me, ‘it’s been 15 years!’ but it’s too hard for me,”

 

Gerard nodded. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he pushed Frank away a bit to look at him. “Thank you so much, Frank,” he shut his eyes, shaking his head. “Fuck!” he cursed, wanting to scream out bloody murder. He missed his grandmother, and Frank missed his father.

 

And then, there they were. Two teenagers questioning why life punished them with the death of a loved one. They let all of their tears out, spilling words and confessions into each others ears, and it felt strangely good, because someone was actually _listening_ for once.

 

“I never _asked_ for her to die, so why— why the _fuck,_ Frank? I just _need_ her, or my entire body fucking… It _crumbles,_ because she was the only one who ever cared about me. My mom drinks and smokes and hardly every cooks dinner, and my dad is a workaholic, always on nightshifts, never spending any fucking time with his two kids. My brother Mikey and I keep drifting apart; I love him so fucking much. But whenever we actually get the time to hang out, we just— we just _sit_ there. It’s almost like we can’t talk to each other _._ We’re so distant, it’s insane,” Gerard vented, clutching at Frank’s shirt. He had no idea why he was spilling so much, but he was, and it felt so fucking _good_ to finally do so.Frank nodded along as Gerard spewed his story, and sighed. “I’m so sorry,”

 

Gerard shook his head. “I want you to tell me. Tell me about your dad,”

 

Frank shut his eyes, before nodding. “He— he never really loved me,” he started, and he felt Gerard’s grip on his shirt tighten, pull. “I wasn’t an accident or anything, but it was like after I was born, his mind changed. He all of a sudden didn’t care, like he realized he was an actual father. He left when I was two years old. It was like, _‘too much’_ for him, or something,” he put air quotations around ‘too much’. “I don’t even fucking know, to be honest with you. The first two years I was alive, he was constantly out, leaving me with my mom. Turns out he was always going to bars, and getting money off of drug deals,”

 

Gerard pressed his lips together. “God, I’m so _sorry_ ,” was all he could say, hoping it consoled Frank, even if just by a little bit. Frank simply nodded, letting out a shaky breath. Gerard felt a tear hit his cold cheek, and it wasn’t his own.

 

He shot his head up, and shook his head again. “Frank, don’t cry,” he pleaded, wiping tears off the other’s face.

 

“We’re fucking _shit,_ Gerard!” Frank finally yelled, and Gerard shut his mouth, then his eyes. He shook his head furiously. “It _will_ get better,” he said, more to himself than Frank, voice oozing out from between his gritted teeth. “It has to,”

 

“No, it won’t. Don’t you fucking _see_ it now? It’s so fucking clear to me, all of a sudden. We can’t live without these people. It seems to be _impossible_ not to. We’re drowning in our own damn sadness here!” Frank’s voice was raised, loud, almost odious in Gerard’s ears. “We _keep coming back._ Why? _Why?!_ ”

 

“Fuck you, fuck _you,_ ” Gerard said, gasping for another breath of air, and pushing himself away from Frank. “That’s not true, _none_ of that is true,” he tried to assure himself, refusing to believe Frank, but the words were forcefully digging their way into his skull, really getting to him, and it was the truth.

 

Frank stared at him long and hard, all sorry and truthful, and Gerard looked back. “Oh, God,” he mumbled, putting his palm to his neck, rubbing. “I can’t live without her. I’m just.. surviving. We’re surviving, aren’t we?”

 

Frank nodded. “That’s what it seems like,” he said, and then, “I don’t even have a father. My mom found him dead a few years after he left. I don’t even know _why_ I visit him, when he didn’t even fucking care enough to stick around, y’know?”

 

Gerard nodded, wiping his eyes. “Maybe we should both just stop visiting,” he tried, that making Frank’s fists clench slightly. “I’ve wanted to do that for _so_ _fucking long_ , Gerard, but you know where I always end up? I _always_ end up back here, no matter how many times I tell myself ‘This’ll be the last time. Say your final fucking goodbye,”

 

Gerard sighed, wanting to cry all over again. “Me too,” he confessed, and Frank met his eyes again. “It’s kind of comforting, in a weird and fucked up way, though,” Gerard nodded slowly. “I’ve never met somebody who understands me so much, Frank,” he said. “You just— you just _get_ it, _everything,_ ” 

 

Frank offered him a small smile. “I’m one of the few kids who’ve been through shit, too, y’know,”

 

Gerard just hugged him really tight, and didn’t let go until Frank complained he couldn’t really breath.


End file.
